


the kitten revolution

by kairiolette



Category: Free!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 07:16:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3348350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kairiolette/pseuds/kairiolette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“They’ll come back with their friends, next time,” Rin elaborates, and the chef returns to scratching under the chin of a mewling tabby. “You’ll be feeding every stray cat on this side of the road, before long.” (a late, late contribution to Rinharu Week.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	the kitten revolution

_i. setting AU: future fish_

 

+

 

The chef, squatting on the ground in the alley beside four feeble stray cats, sets between them a plate of food fit for a human or two, and Rin, routed in the middle of his round-making, has been watching this scene for more than a couple of minutes now. It could be an illustration out of a childhood picture book, he thinks, especially with the orange evening sky as its backdrop. He forgets his duties for that moment and finds himself walking, as if pulled, down the cobblestone alleyway until he reaches the horde of cats and the unknowing chef.

The chef looks up and over his shoulder from where he kneels, and he startles, nearly sending the cat he had been petting into a scurry back toward the dumpsters around the corner. His eyes are clear; they catch the sky’s sunset like a mirror would. Rin steps closer, lightly, toward the cats.

“Are they yours?” he asks. He knows the answer; the cats are stray—there are more stray cats than domestic cats, in these parts. And Rin rather likes them, either way, but they never seem too keen on him.

“I just feed them,” comes the subdued answer, seconds delayed. Rin finds himself and his badge, fastened to his lapel, on the receiving end of the most unimpressed of glares, “Is that illegal?”

He almost laughs, “Not illegal,” he takes a knee beside the chef, “kind of dangerous, though.”

The four cats lick at their paws, at the plate; butt heads and rub gently against where the chef holds his hand out. The chef’s eyebrows pinch inward, and Rin smiles, taking off his cap.

“They’ll come back with their friends, next time,” he elaborates, and the chef returns to scratching under the chin of a mewling tabby. “You’ll be feeding every stray cat on this side of the road, before long.”

Rin reaches out a hand to pet the kitten closest to him; it leaps aside, tail swinging, and waddles over to paw at the string of the chef’s apron. Rin yanks his hand back before he gets scratched, eyeing the cat with disdain.

“I see,” the chef’s lips purse, his eyes go distant even as he drags his fingers through the sleek coat of a mostly-black kitten. Rin trails the movement with his eyes, watches the kitten’s tail stand straight up. His low voice continues suddenly impassioned, “I want to feed them all.”

 _Did you come up with that goal just now, to spite me?_ Rin wants to ask, quirking an eyebrow at the quirky chef. Instead, he laughs: “Is that even possible?”

Before Rin stands up, his knee aching where it digs into the stone, he glances over to see a small smile on the chef’s face—Rin doesn’t know him well, but he has a hunch:  that sight is rare one.

“Maybe.”

 

+

 

Rin winds up on that same block as yesterday by coincidence, and not by bargaining for a switch-of-routes with Sousuke. The same alleyway shows no trace of feline or chef, but the restaurant beside it, the Iwatobi Express, whirls with late afternoon activity. And, conveniently enough, Rin is starved.

He steps inside and bells chime overhead, and without much scanning his eyes are drawn to a pair of blue ones; the chef stands behind the front counter, a healthy flush high on his cheeks as he moves to match the pace of his hungry customers, as he places down a tray of drinks for a waiter or waitress to pick up. Rin takes the first empty seat he sees at a one-person circular table, wondering if he’ll even be able to speak to the chef amidst all this ruckus.

He places his cap on the table and his bag on the floor beside his seat, and loses himself in the menu, looking up only when he senses a presence.

“Can I help you?” the chef stands before him, wearing a toque and a blue cravat that had been missing yesterday, and that might just clinch it for him—Rin is enamored. He blinks up at him, curls his lips up into a grin.

“You’re a waiter, too?” he asks, and the chef fidgets, huffing and looking to the side, presenting Rin with that dust of a blush on his cheek.

“Not exactly,” he mumbles, hardly audible, but Rin hears it. The chef turns back to him, opens his mouth to say something, but his eyes get caught on the plastic bag Rin had placed on the floor beside his chair. He, as Rin learns quickly, seems to favor silent questions. Rin scratches at the back of his head, tugging his ponytail.

“Oh, that—those are leftovers,” he says, “It’s from my dinner last night.”

The chef doesn’t speak, just blinks his big blue eyes. Rin feels, for good measure and maybe to see that rare smile again, that he should mention how he also managed to scavenge his roommate’s leftovers without telling him. Then he realizes how odd, and probably insulting, it must seem to the chef—a customer bringing his own leftovers to a restaurant.

“F-for the cats!” he clarifies, sitting straight in his chair. “It’s food for the cats—the ones you were feeding yesterday?”

The chef’s confusion softens, his lips part in surprise but his cool eyes seem warmer as they watch Rin fluster and grumble and rub at the back of his neck. He opens and closes his mouth twice to talk and Rin thinks he looks vaguely like a fish. Then, he smiles—that same way he had yesterday, while bathed in an orangey glow.

“My shift is over at six today,” he finally says, something inviting in the open way he looks at Rin, in the way he stands still before him though he should be behind his counter, and Rin perks up, nodding his head before his mouth can form words.

“What can I get you?” the chef asks. He doesn’t pull out a notepad or a pen—he must be good. Rin fiddles with the edge of the forgotten menu in his hands.

“What’s your specialty?” he returns, biting his lip through a recovered grin. The chef pauses to think; Rin expects some shmancy French dish, or maybe a traditional Japanese meal.

“Mackerel,” he decides, finally, and something tells Rin that he probably didn’t have to think on it. Rin huffs out a laugh—isn’t that what he had been feeding the cats?

“I’m more of a meat person,” he says, and the chef looks as appalled as he ever could be—so, not too much—but he nods his head and moves to return to the kitchens before Rin can even be more specific.

 

+

 

If you exit from the side door of Haru’s restaurant—that’s his name, Rin has learned, not ‘Haruka’ or even ‘Nanase’—and you walk left, the cobblestone will soon meet the plateau of the curb, which will even sooner meet the asphalt of the winding Main Street. If you make a right and you’re holding a platter of leftover cutlets, and you walk until the passing cars sound like whispers, you will be surrounded by hungry kittens stalking out toward you from just around the alley bend.

“There’s,” Rin cuts himself off, taking in the herd of felines, meowing and crawling closer to he and Haru, “There’s a lot more than yesterday.”

“There’s more each day, like you said,” Haru replies, kneeling down and slowly reaching his hand out to the closest cat’s twitching snout, “They told their friends.”

As Rin unties the plastic bag full of his and Sousuke’s leftover chicken, he recognizes a few cats from yesterday—a brown tabby with fluffy fur and big, green eyes. When he kneels down beside Haru, placing the open plate on the ground, he giggles at the way the cats eagerly swarm to him, like mosquitos to an open can of sugary soda. He tries to pet one—the one closest to him, its face buried in the plate along with about eight other faces; it arches away like the one from yesterday had, bristling and glaring at Rin with evil slits for pupils.

“Don’t pet them while they eat,” Haru chides, and Rin grumbles like he already knew that. “Here,” Haru grips Rin’s wrist, moves his hand toward the chubby black cat who had settled contentedly in his own lap. Rin holds his breath and the cat eyes his approaching hand—he outstretches his fingers, but Haru’s other hand quickly clasps down on them, moving their joined hands away from the cat once again with a sure grip. He frowns angrily at Rin.

“W-what?” Rin nearly squeaks, but Haru carefully guides him back toward the kitten, fingers soft against Rin’s palm and wrist in a way Rin tries to emulate when his own fingertips come in contact with soft fur. The cat seems to care about this interaction a lot less than Rin does; it allows Rin to run his fingers along its spine, even when Haru lets go of his hand and moves to pet over the set of pointy ears. Rin laughs again, it bubbles out of him, and from the corner of his eye he can see Haru startle a little at the sound. They’re not kneeling or squatting but sitting, now, and most of the cats have joined them, bellies full after a good meal. Rin keeps petting the one on Haru’s lap, as gentle as he can, and Haru joins him.

“These poor cats,” Rin mutters, glancing quickly up at Haru, whose shoulder presses into his own. Haru hums, holding the paw of the black cat between his thumb and forefinger. Another cat saunters over, rubs its head against his knee.

“Can’t the police officers do something to protect them?” he asks. Rin snorts.

“We deal with humans,” Rin says, not mentioning the two or three cats he has rescued from rogue tree branches,  “I can barely pet one of them, let alone protect it.”

The one in Haru’s lap seems to like him enough, though; it’s even purring, now. Rin pets under its chin while Haru lets it bat at his fingers.

“Thanks for feeding them, Rin,” he says, suddenly, and Rin can’t turn to him because he’s certain the tips of their noses might brush. He laughs again, a little giddy, touching the soft ears of the cat with his fingertips.

“It’s nothing,” he says, but in fact, it’s his pleasure, “I wish I could do more.”

Haru falls silent for a moment, an implied _me, too._

“Why don’t you adopt them all?” he asks, voice hushed, and when Rin sees him smirking down at the cat in his lap, he snorts.

“Because my roommate would kill me!” he replies, “And half of them probably want to eat _me_ for their next meal,” he adds, eyeing the brown tabby that had nearly hissed at him earlier. Haru’s fingers brush over Rin’s as he cups the head of the cat in his lap. Rin can’t tell if it had been intentional but his hand feels stung where they touched—he wants to lace their fingers together, see what that would feel like.

“They’ll warm up to you,” Haru decides, like it’ll be an inevitable fact of fate, and Rin wonders if he could walk Haru home, once the sun sets for good.

 

+

 

Rin can’t make it back on Thursday—it’s a long day for him, a lot of paperwork, a lot of making up for Sousuke’s stolen leftovers—but Friday he’s free, and he gets to Haru’s restaurant about a half hour before Haru’s shift ends.

“Rin!” Haru greets him as the bell rings when he pushes open the front door. It’s a slow day here, however; only a couple of tables host seated customers, most waiters and waitresses seemed to have taken their leave already, and Haru is more than eager to see him, waiting behind the counter for Rin to approach.

Rin grins and goes over, settling on one of the high stools. Haru looks at him funny for a second, eyes not meeting his face—Rin nearly forgot, Haru has only seen him while he was in full uniform, holster and all. He fidgets with his cardigan.

“No food for the cats today?” Haru teases, bending to retrieve a menu for Rin. Rin grins.

“Not on me, no,” he says, accepting the menu and flipping to the section he needs: fish entrees. He turns the menu to show an eager Haru, and he points to the one he wants.

The dish towel Haru holds nearly vibrates out of his hands; Rin wants to laugh at his enthusiasm, but Haru masks it as soon as it appears.

“I thought you were more of a meat person,” he says, eyes wide, and Rin shrugs, settling his elbows up on the countertop.

“In the mood for a change,” he replies, and Haru disappears into the back of the restaurant without another word, like he had a few days ago. But he returns, several minutes later, with a full plate balanced on the palm of his upturned hand and a delicious smell wafting through the air—Rin almost wishes he had bought the meal for himself. Haru sets the platter before him, and when Rin smiles up at him in thanks, he looks troubled. Nervous, Rin would even say, as he straightens out his apron.

“I tried something new with the seasoning,” he says, and Rin starts to feel kind of awful, “I hope you like it,” he straightens out the napkin he had set beside the dish, “It’s on me.”

Then he stares at Rin, waiting for him to take up his chopsticks and dig in, and Rin nearly breaks out into a sweat.

“I—I want to pay for it,” he starts, rubbing his neck, and Haru watches him blankly, “I was going to feed the cats with this,” he sighs, and Haru’s eyes widen, and his face goes red to rival Rin’s, “so you wouldn’t have to waste food without being compensated.”

Rin’s afraid he created a rather awkward situation, but Haru doesn’t seem upset. He steps closer until his stomach presses against the countertop, and he looks down at the plate, taking up the chopsticks in his hand. Rin thinks he is just trying to preoccupy his hands, but he takes up a piece of the fish between the sticks.

“You can still try a bite,” he says, leaning over the counter even closer to Rin and holding out the piece he had torn off, and before his face can burst into flames, Rin meets him halfway, taking the offering in his mouth and pulling back quickly to chew.

“It’s good,” he says after swallowing, watching Haru’s nervous face relax, his shoulders falling into a comfortable slouch. His eyes glimmer, and he’s still leaning across the counter.

“They’ll like it?” he asks, playful, glancing down to reset the chopsticks, and Rin smiles, wishing he could take another bite, or maybe lean in and let his lips taste something new.

“They’ll never eat anywhere else again.”

 

+

 

They sit shoulder to shoulder against the brick red side of the building, and there’s twelve well-fed cats lounging around them, nearly double the amount from two days earlier. Their black cat friend had, after eating its fill, found its way to its usual spot in the nest made by Haru’s folded legs, but Haru had promptly scooped it up and carefully transferred it to Rin’s empty lap. Haru takes the brown tabby—who loves him and hates Rin, for whatever reason—while Rin tries not to move too suddenly or breathe too deeply, lest he scare the cat in his lap away.

Haru, before joining Rin outside and after clocking out of his shift at the restaurant for the day, had changed into his own casual clothes; a hoodie on top of a striped tee, jeans rolled up at the ankle. He seemed as sheepish as he ever could be—so, not too much—when Rin had looked him up and down with a grin.

Now, after the cats have eaten until only the decorative lettuce bordered the plate, Haru has taken to naming them—though Rin had warned him, told him that once you name things, you’ll want to keep them. He gives them silly titles—like Meowkoto or Nyaagisa—just to rile Rin up, and he had tried to name the grumpy tabby in his lap “Rin-rin,” but Rin would definitely not allow that.

“If any more start coming,” Haru says suddenly as he dangles some string in front of the cat in his lap, “I’ll have to make two plates of food for them.”

Rin hums, patting down the ears of the black cat. He’s still careful with it, touching it gently like Haru had shown him, but he has loosened up a hair, confident it won’t scamper away so easily.

“You could probably cut this baby off,” he says, laughing as he pets over its upturned belly, as if it’s a puppy, “It feasted like a king!”

Haru looks over at him, watching him play with the cat, seeming thoughtful as he turns to the brown tabby. Rin, in turn, watches as he picks up the tabby, letting it nudge its forehead into his slightly-pursed lips.

“You’ll make me jealous, you know,” the words get out before they can be swallowed, and Rin chokes on air when Haru looks over at him, wide-eyed and with his chin still nudging against the top of the cat’s head and twitching ears. Rin scratches the back of his head, looks down to the cat pawing at the instep of his shoes.

“It would let you kiss it if you were more gentle,” Haru says, and his shoulder leans into Rin’s chest as he brings the cat closer to Rin, still in Haru’s arms and curled under Haru’s chin. Rin looks between it and Haru and somehow they both seem to be smiling sweetly and at his expense.

“That’s not exactly what I meant,” he manages, and he’s sure his face goes as red as the sky right now. But Haru leans further into him with glassy heavy eyes, cat cradled into his chest, and like a magnet Rin is reeled in, tilts his head and Haru’s breath is warm, perfect against the seam of his lips when—

—when he gets scratched down his cheek, a second of searing pain, by that brown tabby who wants him dead and—even worse—unkissed. The stinging pain doesn’t linger but fades, though Rin knows it’ll come back as if salted later. He doesn’t care about the scratch though, just about what it had interrupted. The tabby hops away when Haru jolts, sitting up straight and turning to Rin with concern in his eyes. It’s not all bad, Rin thinks, face bright red and feeling pretty pitiful, because Haru frames Rin’s face with the palms of his hands carefully, inspecting his cheek.

“You’re bleeding,” he says, soft, and Rin thinks _what a pain,_ they were _so close,_ but before he can fumble out a response, Haru moves to stand. He pulls Rin with him, though, by the hands, and tugs him along, both of them minding their step as they wind their way through the maze of lazing cats.

He takes Rin back into the restaurant, glancing back at him a couple times, as if to make sure he’s alright. Rin finds it endearing and embarrassing—has he forgotten what Rin does for a living? He guides Rin to sit at one of the high stools while he disappears somewhere behind the counter, returning at once with a towel and a first-aid kit. Rin watches him, eyebrow quirked, and he tries not to laugh as Haru fusses. When he stands in front of Rin, a few inches taller from where Rin sits, it quickly becomes a lot less humorous. Haru holds the damp towel in his hand against the scratch on Rin’s face.

“It’s warm,” Rin says, voice hoarse, watching Haru’s face as Haru studies his cheek up close. Haru hums in response, dabbing the towel, and Rin starts to feel the burn—the scratch couldn’t have been too serious, but it still smarts. Haru patches it up nicely, though; he dries his face and applies a small bandage, with a gentleness that makes Rin understand why all the cats seem to like him so much. He almost wants to lean into Haru’s fingers, to feel them less gently against his skin. When Haru finishes, he pulls back an inch to scan Rin’s face, while still holding his chin.

Rin almost slides off his stool when Haru presses a kiss to his forehead.

“So you won’t be jealous,” he murmurs against his skin, and then turns Rin’s head a fraction by his chin to press a matching kiss against the bandage. Rin turns his head back, nose nudging against Haru’s in a way he had been afraid of before. He tips his chin up half an inch and Haru’s pliant lips fit with his in a kiss, finally, no scratching cats this time, and Haru moves slow against him, sighing; his hands fall against Rin’s chest as he presses in, stepping between Rin’s knees. Rin’s arms curl around him, hands sliding against his back, fingers grappling at loose cotton. Elbows lock at a lean waist and he sucks a breath in through his nose, tilting his head.

Haru breaks away first, breathing heavily, and he tucks his chin over Rin’s shoulder to nose against Rin’s neck, against the sensitive skin under his ear. Rin smiles, turns his face against the side of Haru’s.

“Hey,” he says, and Haru turns, too, eyes fluttering open. Rin kisses him on the lips once again, a slow warm peck, then pulls back until Haru meets his eyes. He doesn’t know much about Haru except that he would like to—Rin knows he’s a chef who likes mackerel, that he’s got those eyes like springs of water. He’s stupidly stubborn, he’s catering the alley behind his restaurant, he’s changing the world one well-fed kitten at a time.

“Hm?” he’s disgruntled but darling, he would rather be kissing than speaking right now. He’s between Rin’s legs, in his arms, playing with the collar of Rin’s cardigan—does Rin even need to know anymore than that? Rin grins up at Haru, fingers flexing excitedly where they rest on his back.

“Do you like to swim?”

 


End file.
